


Not Fade Away

by GenitalGrievous



Series: These Days [8]
Category: Speed Racer (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenitalGrievous/pseuds/GenitalGrievous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interlude in These Days. Cannonball Taylor's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Fade Away

“I’m going to tell you how this is going to be.” Royalton sneered, slamming Taylor into the wall of his secluded office, “Musha Motors has made a large investment in our firm, and as our way of saying thanks, we’re going to let their little Yakuza win this next race.”  
“I’m not taking a fall for that little Japanese brat!” Taylor sneered, trying to worm away from Royalton who was gripping his upper arms tightly.  
“You are, actually.” Royalton remained calm, his moist breath carrying the scent of whisky as it washed over Taylor’s face, “And I think you know why. Because I have the money, and I have the power, and you--” Royalton spat onto Taylor’s cheek, “--You are nothing without me.”  
Taylor’s body sagged. He knew what would come next, it always happened the same way, and each time he let it. The impression that he gave to most drivers was that he would sacrifice anything for glory, but in actuality he knew that he could not support himself without a winner’s pension. Royalton promised trophies, glory, and money; Taylor had no other options, he needed the channel of support.  
He closed his eyes as Royalton flipped him around, pushed his face into the wall with one hand while the other struggled with his belt. “You’re good for two things--” Royalton hissed into his ear, fondling his bared bottom with one hand, and parting the cheeks, “--Racing, and fucking. In that order.”  
Taylor knit his brow together as Royalton penetrated him and focused on the fleur-de-lis pattern of the wallpaper so close to his eyes. Over time he had learned to displace himself from the situation, though in the beginning he had found it impossible. The first time, shortly after he had signed to Royalton Racing, he had cried, and struggled, and fantasized that someone would burst in the door at any moment. No one ever had. Grunting in his ear, Royalton brought him away from his reverie and grounded him in reality, “You’re mine--My pretty little racing slut.” With several sharp thrusts, Royalton came inside Taylor. As he pulled out Taylor could feel his thick warm semen leaking out of his enlarged hole, and his clenched his jaw. Smiling, Royalton reached around and grabbed Taylor’s flaccid cock roughly, “You never get hard for me any more.” He said with faux lament, “We will have to fix that one of these days.”  
Straightening his coat, Royalton sneered at Taylor as he slowly lifted his pants, avoiding eye contact. “Go back to your rooms. If I have a use for you before the race, I will contact you, however--” Royalton met Taylor’s eyes steadily, “--I would think carefully about Musha Motors, you wouldn’t want to embarrass the company.”  
With reserved movements, Taylor straightened his hair and turned to leave Royalton’s spacious office.

In the locker room Taylor gently washed his face with cold water and combed his hair. As he tried his face on a fluffy black towel, he could hear snickering behind him. Wheeling around, he came face-to-face with the driver of Musha Motors.  
“Did it sting?” The silver haired man laughed throatily.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Taylor drawled, trying to stay calm as he zipped up his racing jacket.  
“I think you do, but you’re too caught up in your role of ‘Royalton’s Little Slut,’ to care.” A few drivers within earshot of the two men laughed at the Yakuza Driver’s insult.  
Taylor licked his lips, his jaws tightening, “I would be careful how you phrase yourself, if I were you.”  
“Really?” the Yakuza laughed, “Or what? You’re tell Royalton?”  
Lashing out, Taylor kicked the driver’s feet out from under him, sending the Japanese man toppling to the ground hard. “No. I don’t need his help to take care of a spoiled brat like you!” Taylor kicked him several times in the ribcage, taking care to not leave any permanent damage, lest Royalton catch wind of it.  
The crowd of drivers circling the two men suddenly parted as Chief Inspector Detector and several CIB agents marched up to Taylor. “What’s going on in here?” Detector demanded.  
Grinning, Taylor bent over to take the Yakuza Driver’s hand and help him to his feet. “We were just going over some business arrangements, Chief Detector.” Taylor turned to the Japanese man, still grinning. “Isn’t that right?”  
Musha’s driver smiled, showing his teeth and allowing a small amount of blood to collect in the right corner of his mouth, “Yes.”  
Detector scowled. “Mr. Taylor. You are beginning to earn yourself a nasty reputation among the regular drivers in the WRL. I would take care, were I you, lest this reputation cost you the hall of fame.”  
“Chief Inspector!” Taylor gasped in mock shock, “I would never dream of doing anything to harm my fellow racers!”  
Exhaling through his nose, Detector looked over the scene disdainfully. “Very well.”  
Taylor watched Detector’s retreating form, paying close attention to his well-toned gluteus maximus as he disappeared out the door of the locker room. He smiled, narrowing his eyes.  
“Chief Inspector!” the Yakuza Driver whined nasally, “I would never dream of the sort!”  
Taylor turned and grabbed the younger man by his collar roughly, bringing his face close to his own. “Watch your language, or I’ll give you something to whine about!” He dropped the other driver to the floor and strode out of the locker room, intending to see the state of his car.

In the racetrack garage Chief Inspector Detector and his agents had begun to examine Taylor’s car for safety precautions and illegal mechanisms. Detector was standing near the hood of the car, meticulously making notes on a checklist pinned to his clipboard, eyeglasses resting near the tip of his nose. He looked up briefly at the click click click of Taylor’s heels on the hard concrete, before returning his gaze to the clipboard.  
“Can I help you, Mr. Taylor?” Detector drawled, his irritation showing.  
Taylor walked up to him, hands clasped behind his back, and peeked over Detector’s shoulder at the sheet of notes and check marks, “I just came to check up on her--see how she’s doing--you know.”  
“I would prefer if you would not interfere.” Detector did not make eye contact with Taylor.  
“I have no intention to.” Taylor smiled, watching Detector’s pen making quick marks across the clean white paper for a moment longer before leaning back and walking around to the other side of the car. He watched Detector at work with open fascination, studying the lines of his face, the contours of his body through his well pressed blue suit.  
With a loud click Detector slammed his pen against the clipboard. “Is there any logical reason why you have to be present during your safety check?”  
“Curiosity.” Taylor smirked. Over the last year or so he had begun habitually irritating Detector. Somehow being close to the Chief Inspector made him feel safe from Royalton, no one wanted to approach him while he was near so imposing a figure, and irritation seemed to be the natural result on Detector’s part.  
Detector sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Would it be possible for you take your curiosity to another location?”  
“Mmmmm,” Taylor rocked on his heels. “It doesn’t want to take me anywhere else.”  
Several of the younger CIB agents were animatedly discussing something in whispers, likely Taylor’s reputation, or his skill in the irritation of their higher-ups. Detector watched them disdainfully for a moment, before turning a withering gaze to Taylor, who shrugged. “Mr. Taylor. What can I possibly do to evict you from the premises?”  
“Buy me a drink after the race.” Taylor grinned, not missing a beat.  
“Very well. After the race, you may buy yourself a drink on my tab.” Detector sighed, picking up his pen from the clipboard.  
“That’s not what I said.” The chattering of the younger agents intensified as Taylor narrowed his eyes confidently.  
“It is nearly exactly what you said.” Detector stated resolutely.  
“No.” Taylor smiled, despite his tightened jaw, “After the race, meet me in the racetrack lounge, sit down with me, buy me a drink, and share a conversation with me.”   
Detector met Taylor’s eyes, and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose under his glasses, “Fine.”  
“Perfect.” Taylor turned to leave, flashing what he hoped was a charming smile at the group of younger CIB agents.

During the race, Taylor took the fall as ordered by Royalton. He had watched the way several of his fellow racers regarded him as the cars pulled out to the starting line. If he didn’t take the fall, one of the other drivers would take him out of the race, he could see the glint of a reward in their eyes. As he revved his engine, the Grey Ghost bared his teeth. Faking an engine malfunction, Taylor left himself in dead last at the start of the race, putting on a show of irritation, and throwing curses at his car.   
He finished the race in second place by three seconds, making up for lost time at the start by driving recklessly, particularly through the turns and loops of the track. He watched Musha’s driver accepting bouquets of roses as dozens of camera flashes lit up his silver hair. Taylor smiled disarmingly into the few cameras trying to document the runner ups, and declined comments, pretending to be angry with himself and his car.

In the lounge, Taylor took a seat at the bar and fiddled with a bowl of peanuts, spinning his stool around to survey the contents as the lounge filled with the other drivers. While he was distracted watching Musha’s driver, surrounded by a halo of admirers, the stool next him became occupied. He spun around and came face to face with Racer X. Taylor coughed into his fist and returned his attention to the bowl of peanuts.  
“You’re waiting for Chief Inspector Detector.” X said quietly, so that only Taylor could hear. Taylor avoided eye contact with the pariah driver. “Do not say you saw me.” X cleared his throat, “If you try anything anything I will personally see that you lose every race for the rest of the season.” X rose, and left just as quickly as he had arrived.  
Raising one eyebrow, Taylor threw a peanut into the air and caught it in his mouth deftly. Just as he turned to observe Musha’s driver again, he caught sight of Detector, sheepishly entering the lounge from a side door. Taylor smiled, almost wanting to do something just to cause Racer X frustration. Raising one hand coolly, he caught Detector’s attention. Nodding, Detector walked over and sat in the same stool X had occupied moments before.  
“What do you take?” Detector asked sulkily, signalling the barkeeper.   
“Rum and Coke.”  
The barkeeper looked to Detector for confirmation. Detector nodded. “Two, please.”  
“It’s always pleasing to meet a man with good taste.” Taylor grinned cheekily.  
“Mr. Taylor. I seriously find it hard to believe that you convinced me to trade irritation at one location for irritation and another.” Detector frowned.  
“Believe it.” Taylor took his drink from the bartender and sipped it. “Is it so hard?”  
“With you?” Detector massaged the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”  
“That hurts.”   
“Did you have anything in particular to discuss with me?”  
“No.”  
Detector sighed. “You are absolutely the most aggravating person in the WRL.”  
Grinning over his glass and fidgeting his legs, Taylor took another sip of his drink. “I don’t try to be.”  
“Well you are.” Detector made to get up, “I’m going to go home now, I’m tired, it’s been a long day, and I just want to relax.”  
“You can’t relax in the lounge?”   
“Not with you.” Detector paid for the two drinks and left without another word to Taylor.  
Taylor drained his drink abruptly, and surveyed the room briefly before leaving himself.

As the sun finally sank into darkness beyond the horizon, Taylor was undressing for bed in his quarters at Royalton Tower. With a soft creak, the front door opened, and Taylor felt his muscles stiffen involuntarily. He turned around, clad only in boxers, as Royalton sat on his leather sofa.  
“How was your drink?” Royalton crossed his legs sharply, his eyes narrowed.  
Taylor swallowed. “Pardon?”  
“Your drink, with the Chief Inspector, dammit!”  
“Ah--it was--ah--”  
“I have eyes everywhere, and if I see you fraternizing with any member of the CIB outside of racing requirements--so help me god!”  
Taylor licked his lips nervously, unsure of how to react.  
“Come here.” Royalton barked.  
Sheepishly, Taylor walked towards the sofa, his bare legs stiff in the cold apartment air. Royalton indicated the ground, and Taylor got down to his knees, only to be slapped in the face. He cringed, his cheek felt hot as he kept his eyes on the ornate rug. Pinching, Royalton grabbed him by the chin between his thumb and forefinger and drew his face up.  
“What do you say?”  
“I-I’m sorry.”  
“Wrong!” Royalton slapped him again with his free hand.  
Taylor swallowed, his stomach churned, “I--It won’t happen again.”  
“That’s quite a bit better.” Royalton smiled, his face flushed, and his expression changes slightly from rage to arousal. “You can be such a naughty boy.”  
“Mm.” Taylor’s heart pounded close to his throat.  
Stroking Taylor’s cheek, Royalton smiled slyly at his pained expression. “Does that hurt? I can make it feel better.” He drew Taylor up with gentle encouragement, and kissed him sloppily on the lips, his position enabling him to force Taylor to straddle his lap. He ground his hips upward, running his hands down Taylor’s chest, tweaking his nipples roughly. Taylor groaned as Royalton’s hard cock ground against his inner thigh. “Pretty pretty,” Royalton moaned, sliding Taylor to the ground, “Now suck it.”  
Gripping Royalton’s zipper gently between his fingers, Taylor looked up for confirmation. Royalton shook his head. Nodding, Taylor leaned down and took the zipper in his teeth, drawing it down, and pulled the top button out, allowing his penis to stand all outside of his pants. Taylor closed his eyes and licked up the underside, taking the tip into his mouth delicately. But Royalton grabbed his skull on either side and brought his face down to the base quickly, effectively fucking Taylor in the mouth.  
As Royalton’s head hit the back of his throat hard, Taylor gagged and tried to draw back, but his head was in a tight grip. He closed his eyes, feeling his sinuses tighten and eyes water. Tentatively, Taylor began to fantasize in an attempt to escape the situation.  
Chief Inspector Detector was bursting through the door, gun in hand, no CIB agents in tow--just him and his powerful self. Royalton was raising his hands, barking obscenities, as Detector walked up and cuffed him, and he turned those piercing blue eyes to Taylor and said “it’s all going to be okay, I’m here for you.” Struggling to breathe and maintain his illusion at the same time, Taylor sputtered, phlegm and saliva lubricating Royalton’s prick as he began to draw Taylor’s head up and down in a moderate rhythm. Detector’s was a love that could not fade out of existence, he promised himself. Despite as deep he was in his own reverie, Taylor was forcibly pulled from it when Royalton came onto his face, moaning small crude words as the thick cum ran down the bridge of Taylor’s nose.  
Standing, Royalton rubbed the top of Taylor’s head affectionately, and zipped his pants. He didn’t look at Taylor once as he left the small domicile.  
Leaning over slightly, disorientation taking over, Taylor vomited onto the floor by the couch, his body struggling to empty itself of the emotions that were wracking his whole being. As the last of it came out, he fell over, and could feel the tears coming at last.


End file.
